


On a Random Day of Christmas

by Jsuisfarouche



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, M/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:15:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsuisfarouche/pseuds/Jsuisfarouche
Summary: The first present was given to him on an inconspicuous Sunday morning. Grantaire didn’t wake up early in the morning like he was supposed to. He had plans to meet Feuilly at the art studio as soon as it opened, and to just pull a whole day of working on their graduation projects. He knew how much he needed to get some work done, so when he couldn’t - once again - fall asleep the night before, when the bright light of his phone informed him it really was 4.34 in the morning, he just gave up. So Grantaire didn’t wake up early that morning, because he was already awake from the night before.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 66





	On a Random Day of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the christmas spirit idk

The first present was given to him on an inconspicuous Sunday morning. Grantaire didn’t wake up early in the morning like he was supposed to. He had plans to meet Feuilly at the art studio as soon as it opened, and to just pull a whole day of working on their graduation projects. He knew how much he needed to get some work done, so when he couldn’t - once again - fall asleep the night before, when the bright light of his phone informed him it really was 4.34 in the morning, he just gave up. So Grantaire didn’t wake up early that morning, because he was already awake from the night before. 

“Nice eye bags” Feully taunted him as soon as he got a good look at his face. 

“Thinking of making them my final project” Grantaire answered with no bite, a yawn ready to spill from his lips at any minute. 

“Oh, hey” Feuilly lit up and started searching for something in his bag. He proudly produced a small blue envelope that had Grantaire’s name on it. “I have a present for you.”

“Thanks? What’s the occasion?” Grantaire took the envelope from Feuilly and turned it over a couple of times in his hand. Feuilly was his friend and he spent a lot of time with him, so he did consider him a close friend, but they never exchanged presents for the sake of it, and Grantaire didn’t know what to do with it.

“Oh, it’s not from me.” Grantaire’s frown just deepened “It’s from your Secret Santa.”

“My what.”

“It’s an early Christmas present from a secret someone. Don’t question it, dude.”

Grantaire remained silent, looking at the envelope like he wasn’t completely sure it was a real object in the material world. “D’you know who is this secret Santa is?”

Feuilly just shrugged “Don’t question it.”

Grantaire decided there and then that he had had too few hours of sleep the night before and that it was better to just go with it. He opened the envelope and found a couple of tickets for an interactive art exhibition Grantaire had wanted to check out for months now. He expected something nice, but not something as nice as this. It must have been from an extremely lucky guess or a person who knew Grantaire quite well. 

Grantaire looked up at Feuilly as he was already starting to take out his sketchbook and brushes from his bag.

_ Don’t question it. _

It was not really his M.O. but his sleep-addled brain didn’t really have the strength to investigate further, so he just shook the two tickets under Feuilly’s nose and asked “Wanna come with?”

Feuilly beamed.

  
  


The second present was given to him at breakfast the following morning. After he managed to almost finish his graduation project - a tryptic about the philosophical concept of panta rei - he basically dragged himself to his bedroom at 5pm and fell asleep instantly. He slept for 19 and a half hours and woke up around 6 in the morning the next day. He still lazed around in bed for another couple of hours, just because he could, basking in the soft light that only early mornings can have, but when he heard his housemates wake up he decided to join them for breakfast for once. 

“R!” Joly excitedly announced as soon as he opened the door to the kitchen “you’re awake!”

Grantaire flopped down a stool next to him “I know, I don’t believe that either.” Bossuet was, most likely, still in bed. Or at least that’s what Grantaire thought until he heard a bang and crash from their room, followed by a bald head popping into the kitchen a few seconds later. 

“Thought I heard your voice, R! I have a thing for you!”

Grantaire forgot all about the present Feuilly gave him yesterday, but when Bossuet put the small package in front of him on the kitchen aisle, the memory came back with a vengeance, and with it a slight discomfort of not knowing what was happening. 

“What’s this?”

“Early Christmas present.”

“I already got one yesterday.” from Joly’s raised eyebrows, he knew of the situation just as much as Grantaire did. Bossuet, however.

“Who’s it from? Do you know it?”

“A Secret Santa.” Bossuet replied as a clearly rehearsed answer.

“Do you know who this Secret Santa is?”

Bossuet shrugged “Dude, you’re lucky I even managed to get the present to you all in one piece.”

Grantaire eyed him warily, but started to open the present nonetheless. He found a metal box full of different kinds of teas in it, they all seemed organic and pretentiously expensive. He secretly loved it. 

“This is so weird.” he muttered while Joly was looking through the fancy teabags, listing the benefits of each and every herb. For the second time, he decided not to question it, putting on a kettle with enough water for four cups of tea. 

  
  
  


For the third present, he had to wait until the ABC meeting of the following evening, when Cosette approached him with an oval wooden box. “Third present!” She cheerfully announced, and all eyes shot to him. 

“Ooh is that the Secret Santa again?” Joly asked, buzzing with excitement. 

The wooden box just had a lid to be removed, no wrapping paper of any sorts this time, so Grantaire just did. He found a boxful of what appeared to be homemade cookies. The smell suggested ginger and cinnamon, in true christmas spirit. Some of them were a little burned and some of them were broken or weirdly shaped in the first place. It didn’t matter, the warmth that crept up Grantaire’s chest to engulf his face was impossible to stop. Someone made  _ him  _ cookies. 

He felt like he was choking on air a little. 

“Before you ask,” Cosette intervened “they are safe to eat.”

“How-” it came out as a choked sound, so Grantaire tried again after clearing his throat a couple of times “How do you know?”

“I know who they come from.” Cosette winked at him.

“Not gonna tell me, are you?” she shook her head no with a soft smile.

Grantaire didn’t know what to do, he felt overwhelmed. Someone took time from his day to bake him a boxful of Christmas cookies, and now all of his friends knew there was someone sending extremely adorable gifts to him, and he didn’t want to share the damn cookies with anyone but at the same time he needed for this to get less focused only on himself, and quickly.

“Who wants a cookie?” he looked up from the box, and set it in the middle of the table in front of him. He could hear a couple of people cheering for the free snack.

Before anyone could reach into the box, he got himself the fattest one of them all, and after looking up at Cosette one more time and receiving an encouraging smile from her, he bit down on the cookie.

It took him a few seconds to manage to bite into the cookie, and a few more to start chewing on it, because it was quite hard. But as soon as he started actually tasting the thing, he stopped in surprise.

“Fuck, this is the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.” Bahorel spoke up, but Grantaire could see in their eyes that everyone agreed.

“I think I broke a tooth.” Bossuet whispered to Jehan, not trying to be heard, but it set Grantaire’s teeth on edge anyways.

“Hey, no one is telling you to eat them!” He snapped defensively, but someone was already trying to take the cookie in his hand away from him. Grantaire jerked away defensively and turned around to see Enjolras with an open palm in his direction and a commanding light in his eyes.

“Give me the cookie, Grantaire.”

“They’re my cookies.” He argued

“I think calling them cookies is way too kind of a compliment.” Eponine told him, next to Enjolras, who quickly nodded in agreement. “You’ll get sick from these,” he added.

Grantaire tried to look for Cosette for support, but when he found her she was spitting her cookie in the nearest trash can. “R, I’m sorry. They’re obviously not supposed to be like this.”

“They’re still my cookies.” He said stubbornly. They might not have been the best thing Grantaire’s ever eaten, but they were still salvageable with a cup of hot chocolate maybe, or some warm milk. 

“I promise the person who made them would not want you to eat these.” Cosette told him.

“Please don’t tell them” Grantaire looked at her in a panic. Someone made him cookies. Someone made  _ him  _ cookies. How good they were didn’t matter at all. “I don’t want them to know I didn’t eat them, after all the effor-”

“Dunno how much effort it was, dude.”

“Hey, shut your trap, baking is hard!” Grantaire defended his Secret Santa.

“I don’t get how they didn’t think of trying one before giving them away.” Courfeyrac wondered out loud, and Grantaire felt another way of annoyance at his friends who were definitely not appreciating the gift as much as it needed to be appreciated. He tried to reach for the box to get it back, but once again Enjolras stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Cosette will tell them the cookies were deeply appreciated, but please don’t eat the rest of them.” He told him. Cosette nodded in agreement, and reached for the box instead. He knew they were just being rational and didn’t want him to be sick, but seeing the cookies being thrown away still made his throat constrict, and this time not in a good way.

  
  
  


Grantaire didn’t stop thinking about the cookies, or his secret Santa for the rest of the evening and a big part of the next day too. He thought about this unknown person putting all this time and focus on baking for him, choosing a cute wooden box and by now he supposed the Santa knew Grantaire pretty well, and the time and place where the cookies were delivered was not casual either. He chose a moment where he could have shared the cookies. All this effort, all this attention directed towards him, it was still overwhelming to think about. 

Unfortunately now when he thought about the cookies, he also thought about commanding blue eyes telling him to stop eating, and a gentle arm on his shoulder, and a different type of overwhelming engulfed Grantaire. Enjolras had not been as unkind as he usually were to Grantaire and as he could have been towards the secret gift-giver.    
It would have been better if he had been.

Grantaire’s friendship with Enjolras had a rocky start to say the least, what with Grantaire’s getting in the way of having normal reactions to anything the blond man said or did, and the banter evolved quickly in nasty shouting matches that got everybody uncomfortable. An intervention was staged at some point, Grantaire got a grip on himself and stopped antagonizing their leader every couple of words, and Enjolras started paying actual attention to what he said when he intervened during ABC meetings. One time he started taking notes while Grantaire was speaking, and Grantaire was still not used to that level of attention being paid into his worthless ideas really, so he choked out the rest of the point he was trying to make and remained silent for the rest of the evening. 

The way in which he was in love with Enjolras was destructive and unhealthy. 

He had let himself be consumed by it in the first period of their so called friendship, and was just starting to be able to handle it in a way that didn’t feel like being burned by it from the inside out. He was just starting to feel in control of his emotions every time he was in a room with the man. But a hand on his shoulder and open concern for his well being were not a usual occurrence, and if Grantaire had not been so focused on his present at the moment, he would have not kept his chill.

After the meeting however he had the whole night to spiral into a whirlwind of excitement and astonishment and guilt and self loathing. 

Someone took the time to give him three different presents already. Three presents that were well thought out and personal and- just really, really good presents. And yet, a hand on his shoulder was the thing he got most flustered about when he thought back to the evening.

The presents had to stop.

  
  
  


Of course, the presents did not stop only because Grantaire felt guilty about receiving them. Jehan appeared a little past noon with a tiny carnivorous plant in his hands and a bright smile. “I got recruited for a gift!” he told Grantaire as soon as he opened the door.

“Is this going to be an everyday occurrence from now on?” Grantaire grimaced on the inside, not wanting to put a strain on the excitement that was showing on Jehan’s face in the form of flush cheeks and a singular light in his eyes. The only response he got from his friend was a shrug as he kept smiling, putting down the small vase on the kitchen counter. 

“I haven’t got the faintest idea how to care for a plant. I can barely take care of myself.”

“That’s what I’m here for!” Jehan answered enthusiastically, taking a seat in front of the plant. Grantaire’s shoulders slumped as he accepted his fate and sat down on the other side of the counter, ready for a lesson in gardening. 

Grantaire did his best to try and remember how often he should water his new little friend, what to do if it seemed unwell, and all the three hundred thousand tips and tricks Jehan was babbling about, but the uneasiness in Grantaire’s mind was working as a very effective shield between him and actually listening to the conversation he was having. After ten minutes of suffering in silence, he decided enough was enough.

“Look, I will take care of this little guy.” Grantaire interrupted the stream of information coming from his friend, “and I appreciate the gesture, this and the cookies and everything else, but-”

“R, if you think-”

Grantaire stopped the rebuttal before it could be used against him with a raised hand “But. If whoever is doing all of this is planning to keep it going until Christmas, I- I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“It’s just a plant, R.”

“It’s alive. No one in his right mind would trust me with something alive.”

“I’d trust you.”

Grantaire smiled weakly at his friend, unable to form a nice way to express the feeling that dating Monparnasse on and off for almost two years maybe didn’t make Jehan the best judge of character. Something of the feeling must have shown on his face nonetheless, because Jehan lowered his gaze and muttered “I know what you’re thinking. And you’re wrong.”

Grantaire could do nothing but sigh.

“You are really good at making things more complicated than they are.” Jehan pushed on. “Someone wants to do something nice for you. You didn’t ask for it and have no way to pay it back,” Grantaire actually grimaced at this “so they clearly don’t want you to. What was it, a plant and some poisonous cookies? It’s just a nice thing someone is doing for you. Don’t overthink it too much. And give the goddamn plant at least 12 hours of direct sunlight, alright?”

Grantaire muttered unintelligible sounds that were supposed to serve as reluctant agreement.

  
  


Grantaire agreed to just let a good thing be a good thing until exactly 24 hours later, when Combeferre came knocking on his door with a suspicious box in an almost see through bag. Grantaire really hoped he was not looking at what he thought he was seeing.

His panic must have been clear as day because the first thing Combeferre said as soon as he entered the apartment was “Before you freak out, let me explain-”

And that was all the confirmation Grantaire needed to know that today’s gift was in fact a very expensive, very professional graphic tablet. Grantaire knew it was one of the newest model, knew a few people in his art deparment that could afford one of those, had actually tried working with one before and for as much as he would have liked owning one he knew he could never have afforded one. He knew because he looked it up as soon as he tried using one for the first time, so he knew exactly how many zeros there were in the price.

“No.” 

“Look, it’s not what you think it is.”

“Isn’t it, now?”

“..well, it is. But not in the way you think it is.”

“Absolutely not. Tell this person thanks but no thanks.”

“R, I swear-”

“I swear I will fucking lose it if you take it out of that bag.”

Combeferre must have sensed that the conversation was not going in the direction he wanted it to go, so he changed his approach. He set the bag down with a thump that made Grantaire jolt and sat on the same chair Jehan sat yesterday. 

Grantaire knew Combeferre well. He knew the nice, kind soul who was always ready to make people see reason and find a compromise in a dispute, he knew the level headed man that was able to placate an infuriated Enjolras and a depressed Grantaire. He knew of his lifelong quest of making sure Eponine was as happy as she could be, because this kind, wonderful man lived his infatuation for the girl in such a selfless way it was almost sad. But he also knew, and he knew it firsthand, that if Combeferre wanted to convince you of something he would get there whether you liked it or not.

This fucking Secret Santa knew what they were doing.

Before Combeferre could speak again, Grantaire repeated

“No.”

“They did not pay for it.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want it.”

“They just received it, and didn’t know what to do with it.”

“Tell them to sell it, they’ll make good money out of it.”

“They don’t need money.”

“Ferre, no. There is nothing you can do or say-”

“I have orders to throw this away if you don’t accept it.”

Grantaire gaped at his friend. Combeferre seemed undeterred by it all.

“I have strict orders to just walk out of your apartment, find the nearest bin and just leave it there.”

“Don’t- that’s idiotic. Someone will steal it.”

“Some kid will find it, and take it home and do with it whatever they want.”

“Good for them.” Grantaire felt his resolve weakening at the idea of sticky hands on the beautiful tablet.

“Good for them until they break it.”

“Ferre, this is stupid. Take the damn thing home. Sell it. Donate it to an art school.”

“I’m trying to donate it to someone who’d need it and make good use of it but they are being impossible.”

“No.”

“I’m trying to donate it to our graphic designer so we can have great posters and so-”

“No.”

“If Enjolras knew, you could have helped but you didn’t-”

“Don’t. That’s such a- that’s a real low blow, dude.”

Combeferre shrugged, unfussed.

“You will take this back to the person who gave it to you and thank them and you will not say a word to Enjolras about this,”

“No, you are right, I will donate it. To the ABC. I will give it to Enjolras so he can come here himself and give it to you.”

Grantare could not for the life of him mask the terror on his face.

“Or, you could just accept it now.”

“This is coercion.”

“I swear on my life, the tablet was free, they did not know what to do with it. What’s the difference between donating it to an art school and giving it to you?”

Grantaire muttered under his breath something that resembled suspiciously ‘being wasted on me’ but Combeferre let it go, knowing the battle was won. 

“It’s honestly more of a present to the ABC than a present to you.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes, knowing he was now just being bullshitted into not feeling too bad about accepting. 

“I hate you.”

“Merry christmas, R.”

“I hate you with a passion.”

Combeferre was still laughing when he disappeared through the door.

  
  
  


The sixth day was apparently Courfeyrac’s turn. It was not a good day to be woken up by a cheerful, loud and affectionate guy who had no concept of boundaries and personal space, given that the night before Grantaire decided to go out and paint the town red with Joly and Bossuet. You could be sure nights out with Bahorel would end with some kind of fight just as much as nights out with the dynamic duo would end with them getting wasted over unrequited love affairs. Joly was currently pining after his childhood best friend, Musichetta. The crush was shared with Bossuet, who was usually the less cathastrophic of the two, and just longed for the day where they could finally be together.

“We won’t be able to be friends anymore, if she chooses one of us” Joly would pout with a sad tone in his lament.

“Eh” Bossued would answer with his usual optimistic grin “it will sort itself out, you’ll see.”

Grantaire liked being miserable about his crush on Enjolras with them, because he felt their situation was just as hopeless as his. 

Last night, he pined after their blond leader and felt horrible about his Secret Santa. Joly pined after his fair mistress. Bossuet rambled about the idiocy that was monogamy anyways.

Point was, they all drank a little too much to escape a very painful hangover, which was not being helped by their loud secret santa ambassador of the day. Courfeyrac entered their apartment singing ‘Baby it’s cold outside’ and all he got in response was weak protests and insults from all three of them.

“Cheer up boys, I bring a present and a letter from Santa itself.”

That got Grantaire’s attention immediately. “For me?”

“No, for my grandma. Of course it’s for you, dummy.” he chastised Grantaire as he set the big metal box of what looked like toffees on the kitchen table. He flopped on the chair Jehan and Combeferre occupied the days before, and for a moment Grantaire wondered if it was some kind of universal sign before getting a grip and reaching for the letter before anything else.

His heart was pounding as he opened the teal envelope, scared and excited to have such close contact with his secret santa for the first time.

_ Dear Grantaire, _

_ I apologize if I put you in a difficult position yesterday. I promise this was the best use I could think for something I got for free and had no intention of using. _

_ I hope I have not caused you too much distress as to not enjoy the present. All I ever wanted from this was to bring you happiness and to let you know someone cares for you and wants to see you happy. Take these presents for what they are, a show of affection. I expect nothing and want nothing in return for them.  _

_ I hope today’s simple present will balance yesterday’s discomfort and bring some sweetness to your day. _

_ S. _

  
  


“Courf.” 

“Yessir.”

“This is your handwriting.”

“It sure is.”

“Are you my secret santa?”

“You wish. No, they made me write the note.”

Grantaire didn’t know how to feel about it all. The note. The fact that a lot of his friends apparently knew who it was that was sending these gifts. The absurd idea that Grantaire deserved something so nice and loving as this. His dread and at the same time longing to know who it was that kept sending him such thoughtful gifts. 

_ I expect nothing and want nothing in return for them _ the note said, but how could that be. And even if that was the case, it did not sit well with Grantaire at all. He felt like he owed them, and if his secret santa wanted to avoid making Grantaire uncomfortable, they would allow at least some kind of payback.

“If I write a reply, will you give it to them?”

“To be sure, my friend.”

Grantaire picked up a gnawed pencil and some paper from his room and started writing.

_ Dear S, that I really hope stands for Santa because the only person I know whose name begins with S is someone I would really not like receiving gifts from.  _

_ I appreciate your gifts, yesterday’s was too much, and as much as it did make me really happy, and I promise I will use it for a good cause, I implore you to please not gift me with something that expensive ever again. Even if you didn’t pay for it, I promise you so many people deserve it more than I do.  _

_ I will not throw it away however, because, as I’m sure you know, Combeferre can be very persuasive when he wants.  _

_ As for your words, I must be quite plain with you. I feel awful that you are showering me with kindness and affection because even if I am growing very fond of you (which by the way thank you, you are making me feel like a mad man, being fond of an incorporeal, abstract idea of a person), it could never go beyond that. It seems to me that you are friend with all of my friends, so I’m sure you also know why that is. So really, I am not joking when I say these presents are wasted on me, I am hopeless in every way a man can be considered hopeless.  _

_ I know you don’t expect anything back, but I’m telling you, you deserve someone who could potentially give back.  _

_ I hope you have a lovely Christmas, you really seem like a wonderful person, and in other circumstances, maybe. But alas, I am what I am. _

_ R _

Grantaire sighed, and popped a toffee in his mouth before handing the letter to Courfeyrac.

  
  
  


_ On the seventh day of Christmas _ , Grantaire’s brain very unhelpfully supplied,  _ my true love sent to me _ , he kept going as Enjolras approached him with a nicely wrapped package.

He sat in front of him at his small table at the Corinthe, and pushed the present toward Grantaire with a severe expression. That, and another note, apparently.

_ R, _

_ I have no idea what you are talking about, but I assure you I really want and expect nothing of you. I too am extremely fond of you, I enjoy seeing you happy sharing food with your friends and I love your art and I just think you are amazing and kind and loving and wonderful and I don’t think no one says that to you enough. That’s all this is. A reminder. _

_ (yes, it stands for santa, don’t worry.) _

Grantaire did not have the strength to do much more than staring silently at the piece of paper still in his hands after reading the note, because, yes, the content of it was very touching and hearthwarming and moving but fuck him it was written in Enjolras’ handwriting and he could not deal with Enjolras’ writing telling him everything he ever wanted to hear but actually not telling him these things at all and fuck fuck it hurt and he could not deal with this now or ever.

“Take it back.” he mustered up after a few minutes, pushing the note back into Enjolras’ hands. 

“What?”

“Take this back, I don’t want it.”

Enjolras’ face seemed to fall a little, before nodding and taking the present back. He did nothing however to take back the note.

“That’s fine. Can I ask why?”

Grantaire shrugged but said nothing, just lowered his gaze on the table like a stubborn child refusing explanation for some mischief they accomplished.

“If you really are uncomfortable with the presents, they will stop. They were meant to make you happy, if they make you feel bad there is no point.”

“I’m happy, they’re very good presents,” Grantaire rushed explaining, afraid that his refusal would come off as being ungrateful. “It’s just not right.”

“How so?” The look of genuine curiosity on Enjolras’ face left Grantaire stunned for a second. He was not used to their leader’s full attention when it was not accompanied by a blind indignation against Grantaire’s ideas.

“They are wasted on me.”

A flash of righteous fury passed for a moment on Enjolras’ face. “Stop talking about yourself like that.”

“I just meant,” Grantaire tried to explain “the person sending me these things should invest in someone emotionally available.”

At this Enjolras snorted a laugh “Please, you are the most emotional person I know.”

“Hey, look who’s talking.”

It was Enjolras turn to shrug.

“I’m not saying I’m not emotional,” Grantaire pushed on, a faint blush on his face. “Just unavailable on that front.”

“Oh.” Enjolras focused on thinking about Grantaire’s words until understanding lit up his eyes. “ _ Oh _ .”

They remained silent for a few moments, then Enjolras spoke again.

“You deserve good things, Grantaire.”

The words were not unlike he had heard before from any of his friends, really. They were usually paired with soft looks and sweet tones, as if the person saying it was afraid of scaring Grantaire away with this revelation. They were pregnant with affection and love and they did make him feel a bit better about himself, truly. It was just that it was easier to just scoff and dismiss the notion in front of the person in question.

But never Grantaire had seen these words spoken with the conviction of an ideal, a just cause, a truth universally acknowledged. Never had he seen those words pronounced by Enjolras. It left him a bit speechless, and he wondered why these days it seemed to happen a little more than what’s usually considered normal.

Enjolras, unaware of the internal turmoil he was causing the other man, continued unperturbed.

“The presents will stop, I will take this back if it really makes you feel bad. But someone cares for you and wants to make you happy. I know you are not, most of the time, but you should be. If this makes you happy even a little bit, then-“

“O-okay.”

Enjolras face seemed to lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“But,” Grantaire continued before he could lose his nerves. “I want to meet them in person.”

“I don’t-“

“That’s non-negotiable. Either we meet or the presents stop.”

“They can stop if you don’t want to-“

“Enj. I want to say thank you in person. I enjoy the presents but I really want to at least talk to the person who’s sending them. I need to explain a- a few things.”

Enjolras studied him intently for a few moments, and Grantaire felt his resolve strengthen for once, instead of weaken. He wallowed in self pity for long enough now, following blindly a man whose sight could never stop on Grantaire, even though that’s where it was at the present moment, beautiful and piercing and calculating and it could never mean what Grantaire wanted it to mean. And this new person, whomever they were, they cared for Grantaire and seemed to know him better than he knew himself, and maybe if he just tried, actually tried to get over the blond man in front of him-

“Alright, explain.” Enjolras interrupted his train of thought, and Grantaire took a couple of seconds before bursting into laughter.

“I’m not gonna explain it  _ to you _ , doofus.”

Enjolras fidgeted with his hands and his cheeks flushed a little, but his gaze was unwavering on Grantaire. Were those nerves that were showing? What did it mean for someone so beautiful, so cruelly unforgiving at times and selflessly caring at others, for someone so easy to fall in love with, be enchanted by, be convinced to follow to the pits of the earth. How did a person like this just get nervous, how could a lowly, mortal emotion like that register in the heart of a god.

“Grantaire, I’m gonna be quite plain with you, as we have arrived at this point and I see no other way of a positive outcome for this endeavor.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m- I have been trying to- No, look. Grantaire, I feel very strongly about- about- things. In general. And you are, most definitely not a thing. That’s not what I want to say.”

“Are you that opposed to me meeting this person? I thought you said it was a good thing?”

“No, I- Yes, you can meet them. That’s not the point. I’m trying to explain something here.”

“Doing a wonderful job, darling. Keep up the good work.”

Enjolras cheeks darkened even more, and he threw a death glare at Grantaire, but apparently resisted the temptation to raise to the provocation.

“You are an impossible man, and I have very strong feelings towards you.”

“uhm, okay?”

“And these feelings, I am not good at- you made it clear, you are- The presents. Let’s take a step back.”

Something in Grantaire’s mind seemed to slowly catch up with the situation, and his eyes widened with the shock of something that could not possibly be.

“Enjolras, did you fucking buy me a fucking present that costs more than my entire wardrobe.”

Annoyance replaced embarrassment on Enjolras’ face for a moment, and he bit out a snappy “I told you I didn’t pay for it!”

Grantaire let his face fall in his hands, half screaming a frustrated “Fuck me” that seemed to send Enjolras in a completely unjustified panic.

“Of course not! I wouldn’t! That’s not what this was about  _ at all _ !”

Grantaire could have mocked him, or let him know how much it hurt, but how could he. When all was said and all was done, he was sitting in front of his friend who wanted to make him happy for Christmas. Anything else was moot.

“Enjolras, thank you for the present.” He smiled to the other man. “But they have to stop, because they don’t mean to me what they mean to you.”

“Yes, because you are emotionally unavailable. You already explained.”

Grantaire sighed. “Is this to make me happy?” He shook the present in front of Enjolras’ face, who nodded clearly not understanding where this was going. “Do you want anything else from this?” and now Enjolras was rushing to assure him that absolutely not, he did not want anything more than giving Grantaire presents and-

“So, my dearest leader, they don’t mean to  _ you _ what they mean to  _ me _ .”

They looked at each other for a few moments before Grantaire saw Enjolras understand his words. In a rush of who knows what, Enjolras reaction to this was a hand slammed on the table and a repeat of “I have strong feelings for you Grantaire!” that was a bit too loud for comfort. People turned to look at them by this point.

“Jesus Christ, no need to shout.”

“Sorry. But I do.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, dude.”

“I- Honestly I have no idea what you’re supposed to say. Maybe I’m doing this wrong. I’ll start over. Grantaire, I really like you, I want to give you presents and make you happy but I also want to ask you out but I don’t want the two things to be connected because that would not be really-”

“You fucking what?” Grantaire managed out after choking for a solid five seconds on the water he was drinking.

“It’s a matter of consent, this was supposed to be anonymous but you were freaking out about it and I thought- you know sometimes coming clean it’s better but now maybe you think I wasn’t sincere when I said I didn’t expect anything for the presents, but I promise I’m sincere and then it seemed like maybe you liked me too and-”

“I- of fucking course I like you?”

The smile that spread on Enjolras’ face at these words was so disarming that Grantaire couldn’t even voice all the insecurities and doubts that were blossoming in his heart. 

“So, can I take you out to dinner? Is it too soon?”

“It’s two years overdue. Yes, we can go to dinner? Are you sure you’re talking to the right person?”

Enjolras tried to avoid eyerolls as much as he could, but this deserved it, even Grantaire knew that much. “Just for that, you’re getting all the presents I already planned until the 25th.”

“I can’t believe you bought me a fucking professional graphic tablet that-”

“I did not buy the goddamn-” Enjolras lets out a frustrated grunt that makes Grantaire giggle, drunk on the happiness that is blossoming in his chest the more he realizes he can actually have this. The giggle seems to stop Enjolras dead in his tracks and make him look at the other boy with flushed cheeks, a look that is full of fondness. “Do you like italian food?”

Grantaire moves before he can think twice about all of the reasons why he should not follow his instincts, and be frozen on the spot. He leans across the table instead, presses a quick, innocent kiss to Enjolras cheek and mutters an airy “Thank you.”

And if they end up on the same side of the table with their hands intertwined, arguing about their imminent date with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, that’s something they can always blame on the magical atmosphere of the winter holidays.

**Author's Note:**

> Istg I don't know how to end things I'm so sorry


End file.
